


Sin Again

by Jayne L (JayneL)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-01-27
Updated: 2009-01-27
Packaged: 2017-10-04 14:55:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/31489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JayneL/pseuds/Jayne%20L
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Just so I'm clear: this ain't God's love."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sin Again

The cross on the cover of the room's ancient Bible is black, all its gold paint long since worn off. The pages that aren't torn or missing are stained: ink, grease. Other things.

It was right out in the open when Dean first walked into the motel room. Lying crooked on the night table as if the maid just cleaned around it, didn't bother to make the effort to put it back in its drawer. It's a hooker trap, this motel, and not even one of the kind-of-nice ones where the johns are mostly suburban husbands with standards getting their kicks on a budget; the flickering neon sign outside might as well list "sin", "vice" and "desperation" next to "vacancy" and "colour TV".

Still, Dean's been in worse places. When Castiel slams his back to the wall and holds him there, unnatural strength in the hands fisted in his shirt, Dean can't help thinking about just how much worse things could be. "Just so I'm clear," he says, meeting Castiel's level gaze with worthless bravado and a hint of a smirk, "this ain't God's love."

Castiel gives him that serious, wide-eyed look of his. "No," he says, his voice low, and then he shifts his legs, nudges one thigh between Dean's, and the smirk falls off Dean's face when he feels Castiel's cock pressing hard against his hip. "I don't suppose it is."

The kiss that follows is deliberate, Castiel's palm warm and dry on the side of Dean's throat, his thumb digging a little into the hinge of his jaw. After a moment Dean parts his lips and licks into the heat of Castiel's mouth; it provokes a wordless murmur that goes straight to Dean's dick, and he can't help spreading his legs a little, pushing himself against Castiel's thigh.

When the kiss breaks they're both gasping for breath, hips rutting together for as much friction as they can get. "Fuck," Dean breathes, and watches Castiel shiver; it makes him want to touch, want to _feel_ the next time Castiel loses control of his body like that. He gets his hands between them, gets Castiel's fly open, gets Castiel's cock hard and leaking against his palm; a few tight strokes is all it takes before Castiel shudders, his fingers clawing on Dean's shoulders as he comes in Dean's hand.

The feverish heat of his skin, the dazed look in his heavy-lidded eyes--the _smell_ of him, sweat and sex and _male_ permeating the fresh ozone scent Dean's come to identify as _angel_\--it's obscene and gorgeous, all of it, and makes Dean's hips jerk. Without bothering to wipe off, he tugs at his own zipper, pushes his jeans down his hips and wraps his sticky hand around himself. The wall's hard at his back; he leans against it, watching Castiel watch him. It's good, rough, heat coiling low in his belly, more and better each time Castiel's gaze drops from his face to his hand moving on his dick.

And then Castiel reaches out, adds his hand to Dean's. The feel of his long fingers on Dean's skin makes Dean's head hit the wall; Castiel presses close again and tightens his grip, jacking him slow and relentless. "Dean," he says, and if he sounds a little hoarse it only gets Dean closer, only makes him loosen his own grip so he can better feel Castiel's. "Dean. This isn't love. It's lust."

And Dean's hips snap forward, pushing himself hard into the circle of Castiel's fist as he comes.

End.


End file.
